


Curses & Curiosity

by DarknessAroundUs



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Laura Hale, Alternate Universe - No Hale Fire (Teen Wolf), Bad previous relationship, Curses, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Fanon, Fluff, Getting Together, M/M, OC's in minor roles - Freeform, world building
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-03
Updated: 2021-01-03
Packaged: 2021-03-12 18:55:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,797
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28515291
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DarknessAroundUs/pseuds/DarknessAroundUs
Summary: “Hello, I’m Derek.” Derek says, stiffly extending his hand in a gesture he knows makes humans comfortable.“I’m Stiles,” the man answers, shaking Derek’s hand briefly and then exposing his neck a little. Derek doesn’t get too close, but he can still clearly smell the scent of iron-rich mud, lavender, and a tiny hint of honey. “I remember you from when I was younger actually. You seem the same.”“Hardly,” Derek scoffs, remembering his California self, the arrogant lacrosse champion. The person he expected himself to become back then was not a person the current Derek would have liked very much. “I don’t remember you very well. Didn’t you have a buzz cut for a while?”“That would be the one thing you’d remember.”
Relationships: Allison Argent/Scott McCall, Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 386





	Curses & Curiosity

**Author's Note:**

> Many thanks to my good friend for the beta. Any errors are mine from revising a little after. 
> 
> I've tried to tag everything, but if I've missed something, please tell me. This story is very much a fusion of some of my favourite Teen Wolf tropes. This is a complete AU.

The penthouse is full of Laura’s Betas, loud and raucous. They’re dancing to something with a heavy bass. How their wolf ears can enjoy that level of noise is anyone's guess. Derek wishes he’d brought ear plugs.

Derek tries to avoid the penthouse on Friday and Saturday evenings. Actually he prefers to avoid it on most evenings and nights, not to mention the morning. 

If it was up to him he’d never be here, except for the rare quiet weekday brunch with Laura, while the Betas were all in class or working. On these late mornings, the sun would stream through the big industrial windows and Petra, their cook, would make the best French toast. 

Still Laura has summoned him, on a Friday night, with a bunch of twenty-something wolves, all bitten, not born. Derek tries not to make eye contact with anyone.

It’s easier tonight because someone has turned off the overhead lights, and something blue and strobe-like is projecting an otherworldly layer to the room as a whole. 

The Betas are Derek’s packmates, technically. He knows most of their names, but he doesn’t really know them, nor does he want to. 

It’s clear by the way the Betas’ eyes slide over his body, that they want to know him better. One Beta with purple hair, newly bitten, licks her lips as she passes, slowly and suggestively, even though her arms are already wrapped around another wolf. Derek thinks her name is Darwin, but he’s not sure. 

Derek makes his way through the writhing group of wolves, and walks down the hallway, crowded with couples, some pack, some not. At the end of the hall is the door to Laura’s office. 

He knocks on the door frame, but doesn’t wait for a response, pushing the door open before Laura even has a chance to say anything. 

Laura’s at her desk, and she looks up from her laptop as Derek steps inside and closes the door behind him. The door seals out most of the noise, although Derek can still hear the thrum through it.

“I’m glad you're here.” Laura says, smiling up at him, as if he had any choice in the matter. When his Alpha calls him, he has to come. They both know this. It’s the only world they’ve ever known.

“What do you want?” Derek grumbles back, slumping into one of the overstuffed leather armchairs opposite Laura’s desk.

He tries to appear even more put out than he feels. Maybe then Laura won’t interrupt his Friday nights of research. He’s been 75% of the way through his doctoral thesis for what feels like forever now.

“I wanted to tell you that I’ve found a new Emissary,” Laura says.

Derek feels a pulse of anger and stress travel through his body, although there was no real way around it. Every pack in the United States was required by law to employ an Emissary. 

Smaller packs sometimes shared Emissaries if they got along and couldn’t afford their own, but a pack as big as the New York Hale pack needed to have one who worked only for them. 

They’ve been without one for over a month now after the most recent emissary, Trevor, had failed spectacularly. 

Derek was the reason Trevor, and the last five Emissaries, had failed. Although Laura would insist that it was Derek’s curse that doomed them to fail, which was technically the truth. It’s not like Derek had intended to be cursed by their first New York Emissary, Jennifer. 

His relationship with Jennifer had started out nicely, with coffee shops and morning sex. It had ended with Jennifer in tears and mumbled Latin words, and now Derek can’t get close to anyone new without them being attracted to him in a way that only leads to violence. 

The Hale pack has spent a good deal of resources trying to track Jennifer down, but she has vanished. The closest they’d gotten was a former residence, and that was over a year ago

It’s a good thing Derek’s a werewolf because otherwise he wouldn’t have survived Trev’s attack on him. 

Their mother’s Emissary, Deaton, had been looking into it since the curse was placed, and so far hasn’t seemed to find any clear way out of it. 

Deaton has managed to find one minor loophole in the interim. Anyone who has known Derek since he was a child seems unaffected, which is why brunch with Petra is still possible. But having more than a single conversation with Darwin would end badly. 

Unfortunately there is no way around Derek interacting with the pack Emissary. He’s Laura’s second, reluctantly, but permanently. 

With Trevor, Laura thought it would help to meet only over video chat, as if screens could prevent the curse. Obviously that was a hairbrained scheme. 

“Who?” Derek asks, although it doesn’t really matter. In a month this Emissary, whoever he or she is, will have become violent, forcing Laura to terminate the agreement.

“Stiles Stilinski,” Laura says. 

Derek’s spent a lot of time in the available Emissary database over the last year, and he doesn’t ever remember seeing this name in it. But the name seems vaguely familiar.

“Who’s he?”” Derek asks, hoping that Stiles is in fact a man’s name.

“You don’t remember him?”

“No.” Derek says, shaking his head.

“He grew up with Scott McCall.” 

Derek knows Scott, of course. Remembers him faintly as the terrified bitten wolf who joined his mother’s pack as a child, and vividly as the legendary true Alpha he is now, spokesperson for companies like Wolfblood, and Strike. A regular speaker at all the big werewolf conferences.

Now when Derek pictures Scott as a kid in his mind's eye, he can see standing beside him a slim boy with dark hair, whose mouth was a near constant flurry of movements. That must be Stiles. Both boys had been young and awkward back then, and it had been easy for Derek to dismiss their presence, let them blend in with the many younger pack members. 

Laura speaks again, as if she realizes that Derek has finally caught up with her.

“He’s been the McCall packs Emissary for the last decade and comes highly recommended.”

“If he’s so highly recommended why did Scott let him go?” Derek asks. Emissaries, if they work out, are usually permanently attached to a pack. Deaton’s been with his mother for over 30 years.

“Scott fell in love with a human years ago, and Stiles trained her to take his place. Apparently he wanted flexibility, plus, you know…” Laura says, voice trailing off because Derek does in fact know. Most Emissaries marry into the pack. It’s rare and awkward to have one that doesn’t. 

Deaton’s married to a Beta named Mary, that Derek’s always thought of as mean, but most Emissaries marry higher up in the pack hierarchy. Maybe Laura has her eye on Stiles, even. 

In any case an unmated Emissary in a pack with no viable partner for them is not ideal. It makes sense that Stiles would move on. It’s noble even. 

“I don’t see why he won’t just fail spectacularly like all the others,” Derek points out. It’s not like the curse has disappeared. 

Laura shakes her head “There’s a real chance it’ll work out. Even if you don’t remember Stiles well, you seem to remember him a little and in any case he remembers you. That seems to be the only way around the curse.”

“I guess,” Derek says. It’s a valid point but she still doesn’t want to get his hopes up. “When do we meet him?”

“This Wednesday at brunch,” Laura states as if it’s a royal decree and it practically is, coming from her. Hour Out New York recently recognized her as one of the five most powerful Alphas in Manhattan for a reason.

“Ok,” Derek says, resigning himself to a month that will in all probability include trauma. 

When he arrives on Wednesday he prepares himself for the worst - Stiles throwing himself at Derek in complete abandon right away. 

Instead when he enters, Petra and a thin handsome man that must be Stiles Stilinski, are talking about mangos. The man glances up for a moment, salutes Derek and then returns to a heated discussion about Kent versus Irwin, which Derek thinks is still about mangos but might be about anything, really. 

That only settles Derek’s nerves a little. Sometimes it takes a minute or even an hour for the curse to latch on to its new victim. 

After Petra leaves to finish cooking the waffles in the kitchen, the man who must be Stiles redirects his energy to Derek. Laura is still mysteriously absent. Probably coaching a Beta through a life crisis or possibly, deliberately avoiding the tense early minutes of this meeting.

“Hello, I’m Derek.” Derek says, stiffly extending his hand in a gesture he knows makes humans comfortable. 

“I’m Stiles,” the other man says, shaking Derek’s hand briefly and then exposing his neck a little. Derek doesn’t get too close, but he can still clearly smell the scent of iron-rich mud, lavender, and a tiny hint of honey. “I remember you from when I was younger actually. You seem the same.”

“Hardly,” Derek scoffs, remembering his California self, the arrogant lacrosse champion. The person he expected himself to become back then was not a person the current Derek would have liked very much. “I don’t remember you very well. Didn’t you have a buzz cut for a while?”

“That would be the one thing you’d remember.” 

Stiles doesn’t look anything like Derek’s faint memories of him now. Stiles is still skinny, but with a slight padding of muscle around his arms and chest, he still has brown hair, but now it’s long and spikey. He’s indisputably handsome now, having grown into himself.

Although the most noticeable difference between child Stiles and the adult version are the tattoos that spiral out from under the sleeves of his gray t-shirt.

Emissaries don’t have to have magic, but the best ones generally do. Derek doesn’t like to make assumptions, but he’s only ever seen those sorts of tattoos on magic users. 

That’s when Laura enters, gliding into the room. Stiles turns towards her and smiles.

Derek expects them to shake hands and scent each other, but instead Laura pulls Stiles into a hug. 

They must have gotten closer during the interview process than Laura previously let on. Perhaps Laura’s finally found someone she’s interested in. 

Derek doesn’t like the flutter that comes into his chest when he has that thought; it’s unexpected and unwanted. He shrugs it off as Petra brings in the coffee, and pours everyone a mug as they settle into their place at the table.

“How’s Scott?” Laura asks.

“Good, his whole pack is moving to Oakland in the spring, and I’m glad that I don’t have to negotiate that mess,” Stiles says with a shrug. 

“Allison seems to be handling it well.” Laura says. “I ran into her at the last conference in LA.”

“She’s perfect for the role.” 

Derek expects there to be some sort of sadness in Stiles’ statement, but it’s not there.

“I think you’ll be perfect for our pack.” Laura says, and she winks.

Laura never winks. Derek assumes she means something more by it, and then it hits him - this is probably Laura’s statement of intent, she’s making it clear that she’s interested in Stiles as her mate. 

Stiles gives no indication that anything not normal is happening, “I sure hope so. I fucking love New York.”

“That’s because you haven't spent a winter here yet,” Laura says, “Although I’ve grown to like even that.”

When Laura first came into her Alpha status, a full decade before Talia had even considered stepping down, it had felt like a devastation. Two Alphas couldn’t rule the same territory, the tension would be unmanageable. 

Derek was Laura’s only Beta and they’d left California in what felt like disgrace, future uncertain, even with their parents' vast wealth a phone call away.

New York had not been Laura’s first stop on her territory finding tour, but it had gratefully been her last. By normal American wolves’ standards, her territory was miniscule, spanning just one city block. But that block was on the Upper East side, and worth uncountable millions. 

Laura would never move back to Beacon Hills, unless something went catastrophically wrong. Cora would take over from her mother when the time comes. 

Derek had come to find himself in New York. He missed running wild on a whim, but the librariesand long city walks won out. The idea of returning to a tiny town with no decent Mongolian food was not appealing. 

“I plan to just bury myself in my work and my studies all winter.” Stiles offers with a shrug.

“What studies?” Derek can’t stop himself from asking. 

“Oh, I’m getting my Masters in folklore at Columbia.” Stiles says with a shrug. 

“I’m almost through with my PhD in history there.” Derek says.

“Great.” Stiles says, a strained look crossing his face for a moment. 

Petra brings the food in then, giant plates piled high with waffles and the conversation turns to favorite restaurants, and the giant wasteland that midtown is right now - Laura’s blaming that on the Atreadies pack, but that seems hardly fair. 

“When are you going to move in?” Derek asks when their plates are all empty.

“I’m not,” Stiles says with a shrug. “I’m too used to my own space now. I’ll do pack cuddles, and late night study sessions, but I need space to read, to make magic.” He seems apologetic about it, as if he’s unsure he made the right choice there. But Laura’s smiling brightly at Stiles.

“I’m fine with that,” Laura says. “It’s good to have space. Derek’s always insisted in living down the block. You’re moving into his building, actually.”

“Oh! Good.” Stiles’ heartbeat stays steady when he says that. Derek wishes he could answer the question with the word good, without lying, but he likes being the only member of the Hale pack in his building. If anyone wants to bother him, they have to get past the doorman. When Stiles moves in they will share a doorman. 

Laura sends Derek a look which makes it clear that she knows what he’s thinking, and she wants him to stop.

“It’s important for everyone to be close by.” Laura says. It’s not like their Emissary could live in other wolves’ neighborhood. There are a few neutral blocks left in the city but they are jam packed with shifters of other kinds. Ones that technically could live in a pack territory but preferred not to. 

“Totally. I mean in undergrad Scott and I shared a room for two years, so this is much easier.”

“I’m glad you're ours now.” Laura says, and manages not to sound too territorial when she says it.

Laura brings out the paperwork, Stiles reviews it carefully, and then cuts a hole into his palm with magic, and drips blood on the last page. 

Stiles leaves soon after that. He says goodbye to both of them but doesn’t take any particular interest in Derek. If Derek didn’t know better he’d think he wasn’t cursed. Maybe even half knowing someone as a child really was enough to slip through the loophole.

Derek should feel relief, but instead he feels an itch under his skin. 

“What do you think?” Laura asks.

“He seems good.” Derek says. 

Laura rolls her eyes, “He didn’t propose to you.” 

“Neither did Trevor at first.”

“Even on the very first Skype call Trevor stared at you as if you were the statue of David come to life, and he could only see you from the shoulders up.”

This had been true, as much as Derek and Laura had tried to ignore it at the time. 

“Fine.” Derek says, giving in and saying what he knows Laura wants him to say. “He’s probably going to work out.”

Laura cackles with delight, and then gets Petra to bring them hot chocolate. 

A month later, as the pack all heads up to the Catskills in the party bus Laura always rents for the full moon, Derek’s a lot less sure that it’s going to work out. 

Although to be clear, the curse doesn’t seem to be at play at all. Instead Stiles seems to be completely and totally uninterested in Derek.

He and Derek may live in the same apartment building, but Derek’s never run into Stiles there. Instead when he calls Laura, Stiles’ voice is in the background saying something, or when he drops by the penthouse for brunch, Stiles and Laura are finishing up breakfast. 

Emissaries usually get along with their Alphas, but unless they're in a relationship, getting along means a once-a-week lunch, or in their mother’s case, a bi-monthly trip to the shooting range. 

This closeness between Laura and Stiles would have relieved Derek in the case of any of the previous Emissaries, but with Stiles, it bothers him. 

Derek doesn’t want to be attracted to Stiles, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is.

There’s something about Stiles’ stance, all loose limbs and attentive eyes, that has pulled Derek in from the start. 

Derek has tried not to spend much time around Stiles and while that has helped, he’s sure, the few times they’ve spent more than five minutes together have been shockingly enjoyable. Stiles’ love of research is one Derek shares, and they’re both a little too preoccupied with the 1800s for different reasons.

It seems unfair on every level that Derek is attracted to the same person that Laura is. After all, Laura’s had romance related fiascos with almost as many people as he has, and there isn’t even a curse on her. What Derek should be feeling is gratitude that Laura’s finally found someone who isn’t evil. Instead, his feelings could be summed up as the 4th Deadly Sin. 

Although he’s trying to ignore that fact, and focus on the bumpy road beneath the bus. Laura’s property in the Catskills is much larger than her territory in New York. It’s technically part of the O’Connors’ pack territory. All of the city's wealthier backs head to the Catskills for the full moon, and the O’Connors have long since adjusted to this. Laura tithes them a hundred thousand dollars every year and that helps.

Right now Stiles is sitting nestled into a pile of coats in the back of the bus, half asleep, while Laura plays with her phone next to them. Derek, who’s up near the driver, keeps glancing back at them.

Halfway there, Laura taps Derek on the back and asks if they can switch places.

Derek agrees easily. He would even if Stiles wasn’t involved; the driver has been trying to hit on him since the Bronx, half the Betas are winking at him, and he feels uncomfortable and exposed. 

He reminds himself that the curse only leads to violence if he gets too close to anyone, but it feels like faint comfort. 

Derek slides into the back row on the far side of Stiles, so that each of them are at opposite windows. Derek refocuses his attention on his book on the history of Normandy and gets so absorbed in it, that when Stiles says hi, sleepy, Derek growls at him.

“I mean no harm,” Stiles says, slowly bringing his arms into the position of surrender. His body is still slow with sleep, his cheeks puffy with it. Derek has a hard time looking away.

“I know you don’t. It’s against your contract,” Derek quips. 

“I think that document is more accurately called a blood oath. Although my blood was about 50% coffee when I signed it.”

Derek laughs as Stiles yawns and stretches. This is Stiles’ second full moon with them. The first one Stiles had driven up separately, warding the property beforehand and setting up a huge bonfire that smelled vaguely of marshmallows.

“Does the full moon make you miss Beacon Hills?” Stiles asks.

Derek shrugs. He still visits his parents once a year. He’s not an Alpha after all, and it’s not the same sort of pressure for him to be there, but it always feels strange, like he’s trying on a pair of pants he hasn’t worn in almost two decades. They still sort of fit but they feel outdated.

“Not really. I mean what’s to miss?” Derek asks.

“The warmer weather, for one. I can’t imagine running in the winter here.”

It’s only October now, and if Stiles is cold now, he’s about to be a whole lot colder. At least Derek has the furs of his full shift to hide in.

“Invest in a better coat,” Derek says. “Unless magic could help?”

Stiles shakes his head, “You use way too much energy with heat magic for it to be worth it. I’d pass out about five minutes in and then freeze to death.”

Even though Derek has magic that flows through his veins, he still knows so little about it. There are books on the subject of course, but they all seem to favor vague language. Deaton’s approach to magic was to be even more obtuse than the writers of the books, and by the time Derek turned 10, he knew better than to ask Deaton about it. 

But Stiles seemed perfectly happy to answer Derek’s questions.

“How long have you practiced magic?” Derek asks. 

“I’m not sure. At first, when I was very little I didn’t know what I was doing. I just thought everyone had wishes that sometimes came true. Like I made the tulips I bought for my mom’s birthday last a whole month and the peonies bloom a month earlier.”

This surprises Derek, “You were really into flowers as a little kid?”

“No, I wasn’t, but my mother was.” Stiles blushes. “When she got sick I thought I could wish her better.”

Derek knows Stiles lost his mother a long time ago. And he’s thought about it in a vague way, though rarely

It’s hard for Derek to understand loss as anything but a near thing. He’s almost lost people he’s loved, but they were saved in the end.

“I didn’t figure out it was magic, till after Scott was bitten,” Stiles says with a shrug. “Deaton and I were talking one day and he looked at me strangely and then handed me a seed. It sprouted right in my palm and I’ve been in training ever since.”

“Scott must have been happy about that.” 

“Not initially. Scott hated being a werewolf. He was bitten by a rogue and he was understandably pissed about it. But once Scott adjusted, obviously it was a game changer. Allison, his new Emissary, is magic-free and it’s been tricky. I’ve still been flying out every couple months and renewing the wards, but that won’t be possible forever.”

Somehow the rest of the drive flies by while Derek asks Stiles question after question about magic. Stiles answers the questions in such a straightforward way that Derek suspects even a toddler would understand them. 

When they exit, Stiles stands between Derek and the driver, a much needed buffer.

Derek loses track of Stiles once they enter the house. The Catskills house is nothing like Laura’s sumptuous penthouse. It’s large and poorly maintained, but it’s warm enough that non-were partners don’t freeze to death. 

He helps Laura unload the groceries in the kitchen as the Betas wage small territorial wars over rooms and partners. 

“You like Stiles, right?” Laura asks, Derek as he shoves five boxes of cereal into a cupboard in quick succession. 

Derek wonders what question she’s really asking here. Is this Laura’s way of asking permission to date Stiles? Unless they are already dating, but Derek shakes that worry away. He would smell it if things were serious. 

“Sure, he’s a good match for you,” Derek answers, even though what he really wants to do is growl ‘Mine!’

“As an Emissary, sure.” Laura says with a shrug “As a friend too. But that’s not what I’m asking you.”

Derek’s shocked. “Aren't you interested in him?”

Laura laughs so hard she braces herself against the formica countertop. When she stops laughing she says “Seriously, do you know my type at all?”

And it’s true that Stiles is in no way like the other people Laura has dated in the past, but Derek had thought of that as a good thing. Most of the men Laura had previously dated could be described in one word - douchebag. 

“Do you know mine?” Derek counters, although he recognizes it as a weak line. After all, it’s very clear that Laura knows his type. 

Laura looks like she’s going to start laughing again, but she reins it in and instead says, “I just don’t know why you haven't made a move.”

The reason is so obvious to Derek he hasn’t even bothered dwelling on it. “I worry about the curse.”

“That he likes you because of it?” Laura says.

Derek shakes his head. He’s not even sure Stiles likes him like that. Humans that live for a long time around werewolves are usually able to keep their arousal pretty under wraps, and Stiles has treated Derek with the same kindness and sarcasm he has Laura. 

“I’m worried that anyone I like, who returns that feeling, will turn to violence now. That the loophole is only working now because I haven't tried anything romantic with him.”

Laura moves towards him now, places a gentle hand against his brow and says “Oh, Der.”

Derek blushes under the attention. 

Just then Alex, one of Laura’s newest Betas, enters blasting Pursuit of Happiness (Nightmare) on a portable speaker. 

The moment between them is broken. 

After that the kitchen is filled with Betas making dinner together. When it’s ready, Derek takes his out to the front porch. The run itself is still a few hours away. The wood piled high for the bonfire is visible from the deck, as is the Emissary putting it together.  
After his quiet meal is finished, Derek throws together a quick plate of food for Stiles, remembering not to add pickled onions. He walks the food over to the bonfire.

Stiles is covered with little scraps of wood and smears of dirt, a sheen of sweat on his forehead. 

“How’s it going?” Derek calls out, and Stiles turns towards him grinning.

“It’s going,” Stiles says. “Is the food for me?”

“It is.” 

Stiles leaves the fire to be and swipes the plate and fork from Derek’s hands. 

They both sit on a bench as Stiles proceeds to stuff his mouth full of food. 

“Hungry?” Derek teases.

“Fucking starving,” Stiles manages between bites. “Ready to run?”

Derek shrugs his shoulders. He can feel the moon’s pull already, but it doesn’t feel overwhelming. It never does. Born wolves don’t have to run, really, not even on the full moon, but the tradition of it is one worth honoring. 

There’s only been one full moon that Derek’s skipped in his whole life and it was only because his professor was a jerk and scheduled an exam the next day.

“What do you do when we run?” Derek asks.

Stiles wiggles his eyebrows and then pulls a thin volume with a brown cover from his back pocket. “Study, mostly. Tend the fire. Make sure I’m on alert in case anything happens.”

Derek nods. Emissaries have a lot of responsibilities. First and foremost they have to protect their pack, but secondly and still significant, they have to be prepared to enforce peace within a pack. 

There’s been drama among the Betas already this month, some partners have broken up and others have reunited. Peace tonight is far from a guarantee. 

Still, it ends up being a good run. Laura and Derek stick together, start an informal game of tag in wolf form, and by the time they return to the bonfire, it’s almost dawn. Derek aches from the run, from staying shifted for so long. 

The bonfire is still going strong, the dim sky is full of orange sparks. 

Stiles is serving the Betas, staggering with something steaming from a large crockpot.

Many of the Betas are unclothed, wrapped only in scratchy gray blankets, or old quilts. Laura adopts the same strategy, but Derek makes his way to the house and pulls on an old loose pair of sweatpants, and a t-shirt he’d worn in high school, the hem coming apart.

There are fewer Betas around, but Laura’s sitting by the fire, bowl full of something that smells like cinnamon and raisins. 

“Want some?” Stiles asks. He looks well rested for someone who was up all last night. His skin looks soft and clean in a way that makes Derek want to kiss him. 

Derek glances into the crockpot to discover it’s half full of oatmeal. Oatmeal’s never been Derek’s favorite, but he still says ‘Sure.” He’s starving now.

Stiles ladles him a bowl full and Derek goes to sit by Laura, whose bowl is all but licked clean.

“I spoke to Stiles about the curse.” Laura whispers, her voice is low, and there’s no way anyone can hear what they’re saying. 

“And?” Derek asks.

“He has some good ideas,” Laura shrugs, “We’re going to stay back while everyone else heads back and see if we can’t sort it out.”

“Today?”

“Why not,” Laura shrugs. “Just because Deaton couldn’t solve it doesn’t mean it’s unsolvable.”

That’s putting it nicely actually, neither of them trust Deaton much. Although there’s no point in trying to talk to their mom about it. 

“Fine.” Derek says, although he doesn’t have much hope. 

It feels strange to wave the bus away. Laura’s ordered a limo for the next morning, so there’s a deadline. 

“Let’s nap,” Stiles says, clapping his palms together. 

“Shouldn’t you be saying, let’s work?” Derek asks.

“We’ve all been up for 24 hours. There’s no point in working.” Stiles says, walking towards the house. “Take 4 hours and we’ll work on this.”

Derek’s annoyed as he lies on his lumpy mattress wishing for the 4 hours to pass, but sleep catches him eventually. 

He wakes to the smell of coffee. When Derek makes his way downstairs, it’s already dusk outside, and far more than 4 hours have passed. Laura and Stiles are sitting at the worn kitchen table a pot of coffee and a scattering of papers between them. 

Derek focuses not on missing a chunk of time, but on pouring himself a mug of steaming coffee. The pot is more than half filled.

“Good to see you, Sleepywolf.” Stiles says. “We think we solved your problem?”

“What’s the answer? Wolfsbane?” Derek, half jokes. 

“No, um, we think it’s simpler than that.”

“Oh?”

“What was your intention when you slept with Jennifer?” Stiles asks.

Derek flushes. It’s an intrusive question. “It’s none of your business.”

Stiles raises an eyebrow, “If you weren't cursed it would be none of my business. But intent matters with magic.”

“To have sex,” Derek says. He suspects Stiles has already figured this much out. It’s why he’s asking the question in the first place. 

“You didn’t have romantic feelings before?”

“No,” Derek says. Jennifer had never appealed to him on an emotional level. There was a sexual attraction between them, but nothing really beyond that, outside of the occasional meal shared more for convenience than anything else. “It was sex, and maybe friendship.”

Derek should have left the minute he realized that Jennifer wanted more than he was able to give. That hadn’t happened. Instead Derek had pretended to ignore her hints at love and commitment for months. A mistake, obviously.

“That’s great,” Stiles says, slapping his hands together, with a glee Derek can’t feel. 

“What do you mean, that’s great?”

“It means that this curse should be easy to break. You do feel romantic attraction right?”

“Yes,” Derek blushes, not because of the question, but because Stiles is the one asking it.

“Terrific. In order to break the spell all you have to do is initiate a relationship with someone you have romantic intentions towards.”

“What?” Derek asks, because it can’t possibly be that easy. 

“Jennifer’s curse was a punishment for your intentions towards her, and the only way to break it is to initiate a relationship with very different intentions. It was probably her hope that it would lead you down a path of growth.”

Laura rolls her eyes. “I hardly think Jennifer was that altruistic.” 

Stiles shrugs. “She also could have thought that you’d just muddle through the curse forever, without figuring a way out.”

“That is a much more accurate guess,” Derek says. Although now he’s relieved that he does indeed seem to have a way out. 

“So now you know everything you need to do in order to break the curse,” Stiles says confidently. “Not that finding someone you have a romantic intent for will be easy while you’re still under the curse, because it changes how individuals interact with you.”

“Not everyone,” Derek says confidently.

“Oh? Oh!” Stiles said, placing a hand to his chest. Derek can see a tattoo of a spider peeking out of the end of the Stiles’ sleeves that he swears wasn’t there before. “Are you sure?”

“He is!” Laura says with a smug smile on her face. “I’ll leave you to it,” she adds, backing out of the room with another wink. Maybe winking is just something Laura does around Stiles, Derek thinks, before he re-focuses on Stiles.

Stiles is standing a few feet away, looking a little dumbstruck.

“Can I kiss you?” Derek asks. Kissing is something that usually happens organically, a moment taking him by surprise. But if he’s going to do this right, and break the curse, he figures words are best. 

A lot of what went so wrong with Jennifer could have been solved with clear communication right at the beginning, or even just by addressing those hints she kept dropping instead of ignoring them.

Derek expects Stiles to answer him right away, but instead Stiles looks nervous and then after a moment too long asks, “Would you be doing this if you didn’t know it would break the curse?”

Derek laughs, “I wanted to do this before I knew it would break the curse.”

Stiles doesn’t respond with words, instead striding forward and pressing his lips against Derek. 

His approach was too fast, so the first kiss is more of an awkward smearing of Stiles’ lips against the one half of Derek’s. Stiles pulls back for a moment, gets his bearings, and this time when he approaches, their lips meet, perfectly. 

Joy floods through Derek so strongly, he swears he can smell it. The kiss is warm, and at first the pressure is soft and tentative, but it builds, the press and the push leading Stiles to open his lips just a little, so Derek can slide his tongue inside. 

When Stiles pulls away, Derek can see the red of stubble burn on his upper lip. 

“Where do you see this going?” Stiles asks, and Derek cannot help but notice a tattoo of a black star sliding down Stiles' wrist before settling in the center of his hand. 

Derek wants so much with Stiles, a shared bookshelf, long vacations on islands that are not covered in cities, conversations that stretch the whole night through. But his mouth doesn’t manage to say anything like that.

Instead he blurts out, “Wherever you want too, as long as it’s serious.”

Stiles blushes and shakes his head, “I can’t believe this is finally happening!”

“Finally?” Derek asks, confused. They’ve only really known each other for two months, and even then it hasn’t been like they’ve spent much time together.

“I had such a crush on you as a kid. Scott wouldn’t stop teasing me about being a professional stalker when I signed up for being Laura’s Emissary. It’s why I tried so hard to pretend not to be interested in you. I worried you would blame the curse for my interest in you, and fire me.”

“You did such a good job playing cool, I was pretty sure you were more interested in Laura.”

Stiles laughs. “Really? I pulled it off?”

Derek nods.

“I was so embarrassed when you seemed to barely remember me.”

“That’s the impression most younger kids make on older ones, not a big one.”

“I once asked you to marry me.”

Derek laughs so hard, tears threaten to sneak out. It’s probably for the best that he forgot all that.

When he finally stops laughing, Stiles is still blushing, and Derek pulls him into a hug and then kisses him again. 

This time it’s even more intense, when Stiles pulls away Derek’s about to suggest going upstairs. They still have plenty of time before the limo comes to pick them up. 

Instead Stiles says, “We should probably take this slow.”

“Why?” Derek asks. He’s already made his intention clear, and Stiles has clearly liked him for half of forever. 

“Have you ever taken it slow?” Stiles asks. 

Derek shakes his head. 

“Great,” Stiles says with a smug grin. “It’ll be a first then.”

It does end up feeling very much like a first, the next day when the two of them go to a movie together and eat dinner at a restaurant with low lighting. Stiles blows out the tea candle on their table first thing. He must know that the flickering bothers werewolves' eyes, but they never talk about it specifically

After Derek invites Stiles up (or further up, Stiles lives on the 8th floor, Derek the 12th), but Stiles passes, settling for a lingering elevator kiss, Derek’s hand pressed against the door open button till the elevator flashes its lights at both of them.

“I don’t want to rush,” Stiles says, as the elevator doors close between them. 

Derek tries to honor that, but it’s hard. They see each other most days, even if it’s just for coffee, and it feels increasingly hard to stop at kissing, which leads Derek to rucking up Stiles’ shirt in the elevator.

“How long do we have to stay slow? I’m ready,” Derek murmurs into Stiles’ ear.

After Derek arrives back in his apartment he receives a text from Stiles that says, “I want to be ready but I’m not.”

Then a few minutes later another one that says “I’ve rushed into things before, more than once. It doesn’t end well for my heart.”

All this time Derek’s assumed they were taking it slow because of the curse, and its lingering effects (or lack) on Derek. It comes as a shock to realize it’s not all about him.

Mostly when they are together they talk about research or the 1800s or the best bookstores in New York. But these texts make it clear to Derek that they have to go deeper.

They’ve gotten along so easily so far that Derek hasn’t bothered asking more personal questions. 

He’s felt so easy-going in general lately, part of that is stiles, and part of that is because the curse is now broken.

Derek can talk to Laura’s Betas normally without the curse drawing them close to him. He gets along with all of them a lot better now. Laura teases him about this, but he shrugs it off. 

Derek wants to ask Stiles about the texts, about rushing, but he doesn’t want to force anything either.

A week later when they are walking through Central Park together, the clouds threatening to rain above them, Stiles tells Derek about his romantic history.

He gets more of an answer than he was expecting, one involving hook-ups, dating, and even one surprisingly fast engagement. 

“I’ve been the Jennifer before, minus the cursing,” is what Stiles says at the end of the conversation, “I don’t like the idea of sex and feelings being intertwined, but they are for me.”

Derek nods and blushes, “They would be for me, with you.” 

Stiles smiles brightly, but that date also ends with a kiss. 

The next date, post gelato, Derek finds himself being pulled off the elevator at the 8th floor and into Stiles’ apartment, which is a mess, but one Derek doesn’t really notice on the way to the bed. 

At their mating ceremony a year later Laura brings up the curse as part of her speech and it feels like such ancient history, Derek finds himself laughing at it. 

When Scott mentions Stiles’ newly successful 15-year plan to woo Derek, Derek laughs also, but when he notices Stiles’ deep blush, he places a comforting hand on his lower back and whispers in his ear, “I am so grateful for your plan, love.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! I'm always grateful for comments and kudos.


End file.
